“That removes the rifles from Schofield’s possession,” she said.
Ike settled back, his mind racing. Whatever they did only delayed delivery of the rifles. He had to alert the authorities. Somewhere. If Fort Davis was out of the question, other forts along the route were possible oases for him. He had heard of a Fort Quitman, but dredging through his memory warned him it had been abandoned years ago. More than a decade?
Crossing the desert on foot without supplies to an abandoned fort was a sure way to die.
“El Paso,” he said in resignation. “That’s our best hope. Our only hope.”
“We can’t ride all the way and trust we won’t be killed,” she said. Lily rested her cheek on his shoulder. “But you’ll think of something. You’re clever. That’s your reputation, isn’t it, Mr. Lawman?”
“My reputation,” Ike said, more to himself. He should never have kept the badge or dared to assume the identity of a lawman, much less one as notorious as Augustus Yarrow.
He drifted off to a troubled sleep filled with flashing six-shooters and Indians stabbing him with lances, only to turn into a laughing Kinchloe. As one thrust straight for his heart threatened his life, he was shaken awake.
“We’re there. It’s dawn and we’re there, Ike.”
“El Paso?” He’d jump off and find the nearest lawman. Fists working to rub sleep from his eyes, he realized they hadn’t yet arrived. This was the pull off to take on more water for the boiler.
“Are you going to decouple the cars? It occurred to me that you can disconnect the Pullman car, too, and strand Schofield and his men. That can give us time to reach El Paso and—”
“And get the army to send a patrol,” Ike finished for her. “I’ll have to get the drop on the engineer to keep him steaming along, though.”
“Do it, Ike. That’s the best plan you’ve come up with yet.” She gave him a kiss. He hoped none of the other passengers noticed. It wouldn’t do Lily’s reputation any good, especially since she still wore, more or less, the old-lady makeup.
The sleep cleared rapidly from his brain as his excitement mounted, and he knew her words inspired confidence the plan could succeed. That it was more her idea than his didn’t matter, not if he carried it out perfectly.
He made his way forward and leaned out from between the passenger cars. The engineer edged forward and screeched to a halt in just the right spot for the water spout to be pulled down. His young fireman had already climbed the ladder and grasped the rope.
They called back and forth to each other to be certain everything was aligned properly, then the fireman yanked hard and swung the spout around over the opened boiler. With an agility that’d put a snake to shame, he worked his way up to the valve and began turning it.
“Ain’t got much left in the tower,” the fireman called. “You think them Injuns been drinkin’ our water?”
“I think the lazy no-account who’s supposed to keep it filled has been lying down on the job. Is there enough in there to get us to El Paso?” The engineer took off his striped hat and waved it around to evaporate the sweat on the inner band.
“Reckon so. Here it comes.” The boy gave the valve a final turn. The spout bucked as water gushed forth.
Ike slipped to the ground and pressed close to the cars as he made his way toward the caboose. Lily’s idea about decoupling everything behind the third passenger car solved most of their problems. If Ike stranded him, Schofield wasn’t going to abandon the freight cars with the rifles. He’d still be here when the cavalry arrived. Without horses, he and his henchmen had no way to escape.
Ike snorted. Staying here, the gunrunners had water enough to survive. If Schofield decided to tramp across the desert his life would be in danger. And he had plenty of food aboard his fancy Pullman car. It hardly seemed fair. He lived it up until he was arrested.
Ike hurried to the coupling behind the third passenger car. Staring at the mechanism told him running a railroad was more complicated than he expected. The levers and hoses somehow controlled the coupling. He tugged and pushed and tried to unlock the cars to no avail. Frustrated, he began kicking and pulling at the mechanism. Whatever sequence was required to uncouple the cars, he failed to find it.
At the front of the train, the fireman yelled to the engineer that the last of the water had been drained from the water tower. Ike became frantic. One rod stuck up and gave fleeting hope he could unhook the cars. Lever in hand, he applied as much pressure as he could. Nothing budged. He dropped to his knees and looked under the coupling, hoping to see a pin or something simple defeating his effort.
Nothing.
He traced the hoses around and decided these worked a braking system and had nothing to do with the coupling itself. That left the lever. It should have yielded when he tugged on it. Even applying his full strength, it refused to budge.
But the train was moving. The whistle let out its shrill warning that they again pulled onto the main tracks on their way to El Paso.
He made one last effort, then had to hop onto the platform behind the Pullman car or be left behind. Ike sat panting from the exertion. His hands were covered with grease, and the coupling remained fully locked. The train lurched and finally left the siding. Staring down at the tracks he saw the difference. These rails were shinier from being run over at full speed and, somehow, were sturdier in appearance.
“They use defective tracks on the sidings,” he muttered aloud. “Or not.” He was past caring. The plan with the best chance of succeeding was now out of the question. If he couldn’t uncouple the Pullman, freight cars and caboose standing still, there wasn’t any way he’d ever succeed with the train gathering speed.
Ike tried to open the door into the third passenger car. His hands were too slippery with grease. Grumbling, he wiped his right hand off on his pants and turned the handle.
The door slammed shut, and the handle slid from his grip.
“What’re you doing? You were tinkering with the coupling. What’d you do?”
A heavy fist slammed into the back of his head. The rabbit punch drove him to his knees. Through blurred eyes, he saw boots step onto the platform.
“You. You don’t have sense enough to let us be!”
Kinchloe grabbed Ike by the collar and lifted. The railroad dick was inches taller and caused Ike to scuffle back and forth, trying to gain his feet. His toes dragged along the metal platform.
“You and the woman. You’re up to something, but I don’t want to hear it from you. I’ll beat it out of her—after you’re gone!”
Kinchloe lifted Ike entirely off the metal platform and swung him around. Dangling over the rapidly passing land brought everything into focus. Without traction, he had no chance to punch the railroad detective. Ike’s hand flashed for his six-gun.
Again the grease on his hand betrayed him. His fingers slipped off the butt. For his effort, he got a loud burst of laughter from his assailant.
“Mr. Schofield might want to ask you some questions, but I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Kinchloe pulled Ike in to his chest with the intent of heaving him outward by a sudden straightening of his arms. This gave Ike the opportunity he’d missed before. Ike grabbed Kinchloe’s lapel with his left hand and pulled with all his strength. The bull shoved, but Ike curled around and slammed into the rear wall of the passenger car instead of sailing out into the desert.
Still unable to get traction, Ike brought one leg up and forced his knee between their bodies. Kinchloe growled like a bear and regained his grip. Before he swung Ike out to be thrown from the train, Ike wiped his hand off on the man’s coat.
This time when his hand flashed to his six-gun, he didn’t slip. Ike drew and discharged the Colt point-blank into Kinchloe’s chest. There was hardly any report from the pistol. With the muzzle jammed hard into the man’s body, the shot was muffled. Flames from the wadding spread across Kinchloe’s coat and vest like a tiny forest fire.